


The Past Caught up and Never Let Go

by AwesomeAwesomeness



Series: To Be or Not to Be a Thief [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Kind of....more like the beginnings of redemption, Mentions of the team - Freeform, Redemption, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 02:30:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeAwesomeness/pseuds/AwesomeAwesomeness
Summary: Dick Grayson goes to work at Big Belly Burger to work toward getting a present for Barbara. All is as well as it could be until he gets a surprise visit at work.





	The Past Caught up and Never Let Go

“Ma’am the discount only covers kids’ meals over-”

“I don’t care!” The woman slammed her hands down on the counter and looked at Dick as if he had come into work with the sole purpose of spiting her. “I saw the ad and from one to five all kids’ meals are _free_!”

No, they aren’t you insufferable bitch.

Dick had forgotten how terrible it had been to deal with the public. He drew on his experience working with his coworkers as an officer to prepare himself, but now he realized that nothing could quite top being yelled at by an unreasonable customer for minimum wage.

Barbara better like her present or Dick didn’t know what he would do.

“The discount only covers _one _meal for every combo.” He peered at the hoard of tiny children standing behind the lady. “So you would receive _one _free kids meal. Not _ten_.”

The woman peered at his uniform, eyeing his name tag. In a comically slow and overemphasized manner, she drawled, “I want to speak with the manager.”

Dick looked at her and put on his biggest customer service smile. “Gladly.”

You’ll be someone else’s problem now.

He stormed toward the back and simply told his manager that a customer needed assistance before clocking out for an early lunch. Out behind the restaurant, Dick leaned against the back door, taking deep breaths to avoid storming back in there and getting himself fired. After all, Babs needed something for putting up with his ass for almost a month, and she made it pointily clear she wouldn’t accept anything that was bought with dirty money.

The back door opened, and Dick scooted over to make room for his coworker to join him on the pavement.

“You alright Rick?” Jim…Jimmy something offered Dick a cigarette which he turned his nose up at. 

“I’m fine.” Dick took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d probably have to take three showers to get the smell of grease and nicotine off his skin. The man hated being around people in general but rude customers, a cheap wig, and an itchy uniform were enough to make him want to crawl out of his own skin.

One last deep sigh then he put the glasses back on his face. If it was for Babs, he could do anything.

“I’ll be back in a moment just let me finish up the rest of my break.”

“You got it.” When Jimmy left Dick relished in the silence.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Dick took the time to practice a handstand into a backflip. He got the angle just right when a shove to his legs sent him crashing to the ground. With renewed fury, Dick sprang up to clock his offender, but when his eyes met that familiar copper mask, his blood turned cold. He tried to run only to be gripped by the shoulders and shoved against the brick wall.

“Do you know how much your little stunt cost me?” Slade leaned forward, his cold eye meeting Dick’s fearful blues. “Twenty-four billion dollars.” In an instant Deathstroke’s hands moved from Dick’s shoulders to his neck and _squeezed_. He tried to pry Slade’s hands away, but his grip only tightened. Biting, kicking and scratching didn’t faze him in the slightest. In fact, Dick could hear soft chuckles through his oxygen deprived haze

“Please…I don’t…” _I don’t want to die. _

Barbara wouldn’t be able to find out where he went, and Bruce wouldn’t care enough to look. He’d be just an abandoned corpse in Gotham’s alleyways, looted for all he was worth and eventually thrown into a dumpster. Truly another piece of trash that would either never be found or never be mourned upon being found.

Slade leaned closer, his metal faceplate leaving a cool imprint on Dick’s cheek. “Unfortunately, I can’t get money from a dead man.”

The pressure against his neck fell away and Dick was sent plummeting to the ground. On his hands and knees, he greedily gulped in air and struggled to blink away the stars in his vision. The young man tried to stand but the world was still swimming too much to have an accurate depiction of up and down.

Deathstroke tsked and forced Dick’s head up so they were eye to eye once more. “In three weeks, I expect to claim either the money you owe or your life. Your choice.”

“How-” The rest of Dick’s sentence was cut off by an intense coughing fit that rattled his already abused throat.

_How do you expect me to get that kind of money? _

The best paying jobs would only get him a couple million and that was after _weeks _of preparation. Bigger jobs would take close to a year. Even cheating his boss and cohorts out of their share would only get him _close _to one billion. Although, by that point, he’d be exerting more effort for the same outcome, because they would most certainly kill him.

The only other option would be to admit defeat and turn himself into Bruce, but Babs was wrong about him wanting his wayward son back. Dick would get protection, sure, but he would also get a cell. No one would be able to save him from becoming a particularly entertaining monkey. He’d serve as an example to the Team for what happens when you step out of line.

Dick would rather take his chances with Slade. Bruce trained him well after all. It would be a bitch, but he could disappear again, he’d done it before and he would do it again. 

Slade laughed and seized the back of Dick’s neck in a vice like grip. “How you get the cash doesn’t matter. I only care that I have it by this month’s end.” The mercenary leaned closer, so close that if he wasn’t wearing that mask, he would be breathing on Dick’s face. “And if you run I won’t chase you down. I’m sure there are other people willing to pay the price for you.”

Dick’s eyes grew wider, his heart beat faster, and his breaths grew shorter.

He thought of Babs working toward her degree.

He thought of that tiny brat Bruce had just taken in.

He thought of his former friends who left the hero life a long time ago.

Each and everyone one of them didn’t deserve to deal with Dick’s crap and none of them could properly defend themselves if they had to. He prided himself on being a thief who looked out for himself, but even he wasn’t morally corrupt enough to let his problems become his allies’

Dick stopped struggling.

Slade let him go, so suddenly, Dick _almost _pitched forward. Instead he rose and met Deathstroke’s eyes. He had spent so much of his adult life running, running from his grief, running from his anger, running from his duty. Now he would stand with his feet planted, looking forward instead of looking back. Dick made his choice a long time ago; he won’t evade the consequences of it.

He would either get the money or die trying, but he wouldn’t run. Not anymore. And if he died…well he’d turned his back on everyone and in turn everyone turned their backs on him. Dick abused the kindness of the one person he had left. Was there really anyone left who’d care?


End file.
